(2024-10-21) An Insistence On Quality and Preservation of Skill

Details

Author:	Athena
Summary:	Merelda returns to House Fallon to present her plans for the new Stormwind Townhouse. Avrenne sees to the materials, as promised, and learns several things of interest of new worgens potentially in Gravehowl and something of the social life of the pack leader, Lord Graves prior to the recent circumstances, as well as Lady Merelda's personal preferences. 6900~ words.
Rating:	T for Teen

Merelda is shown in not to the Little Parlor of social business, but to a masculine, well decorated office on the second floor. She's been here already — she's been to nearly every room in the Fallon House, having been shown around — but this time the reason is clear: it's Business Time. Avrenne is already seated at a couch in front of a table, her back to the books, facing the large map. A bouquet of vividly red and glossy cultivated anthurium, with what seems to be no scent whatsoever, decorates the center in a slim vase. Several ledgers, the very large book, and a cloth bag rest nearby, awaiting math and materials. A fire keeps the room a comfortable warmth, chasing off the October chill. There's no tea — yet — and Lady Fallon is instead in the midst of looking through a ledger, her well manicured fingers lightly turning the pages, in a well fitted, long sleeved and high collared dress of maroon velvet and touches of gold silk. It brings out the depth of her dark eyes and the warm gold of her hair, the accents of her gold stud earrings and a simple gold and sapphire necklace touches of wealth.

Merelda clears her throat as she enters the room - in human form, wearing a stylishly cut dress of deep blue velvet, most of the collar and any earrings she might wear obscured by her loose red hair. This time, she is clearly here for business as well, not simply a visit. She carries with her a sizable brown leather briefcase, which she is carrying as if it is light. It probably isn't.

"Good day, Lady Fallon," Merelda says, moving swiftly towards her. "I trust you're ready to talk specifics, with regard to the townhouse? I've brought blueprints."

Avrenne rises up to a stand using the couch arm to help her up. In even just one month, she's already significantly more pregnant than when Merelda last saw her. "Lady Merelda," she greets. "I am, please, have a seat. Tea will be in just a moment." She sits back down, spreading her dress into proper place.

"Thank you," Merelda says, taking a seat on the couch across the table from Avrenne, her back to the large map and facing the books and windows. One of those two things draws her attention for a brief moment, but then she lifts her briefcase to set on the table, well to the side of Avrenne's ledger. "Before I begin, are there any concerns or changes to the project that you would like to bring to my attention?"

"No, nothing at present." Avrenne sets her hands in a light clasp over her belly, as she waits for Merelda to set up.

Merelda nods briskly, and starts removing papers from her briefcase. There are spreadsheets detailing materials, included recommended sources and expected costs, and, as promised, several pages of blueprints for a rather large three-level townhouse. On top of all of this, she sets an exterior sketch. It is white stone, rectangular windows, and the required yellow roof for the cathedral district. "As we discussed, I planned for Stormwind style, taking the requirements of your district into account. Before we get to the floorplan, does this look much as you imagined?"

Avrenne's main attention appears to be on the spreadsheet of materials, her eyes flicking from it to the exterior of the townhouse. "I must admit I didn't really imagine anything at all, Lady Merelda." With her general demeanor, one might even think that it's likely that Lady Fallon is not, on the whole, an imaginative person, unlike her ward, Isla. "It's really not my field of expertise to evaluate an exterior for any particular aesthetic, but it seems suitable and reasonable thus far." There is nothing in either her expression or words to indicate any sort of gushing or excitement, no how charming or how beautiful, simply the All Business of an unsentimental, serious woman seeing to the necessary construction of a building.

Merelda nods, satisfied. She's fine with unexcited clients, this was mainly poking for any signs of dismay. She shuffles the papers and brings forth the first floor blueprint.

"Here you can see the plan, the entrance here… and private rooms on the left, public on the right, and the servant's areas behind," Merelda traces the details as she explains. "Enough to entertain, but not a large group, as you requested. And the foyer is considerably smaller than that disaster of a floorplan the previous building had, as you can see. No significant space wasted, but large enough not to give a feeling of confinement upon entrance."

Avrenne makes an "Mmhm," sound, an indication to continue.

Merelda cycles through to the second floor. "Here I planned rooms for use by the immediate family. A master suite and one for your husband's sister… and here, the nursery and related rooms. And two guest rooms, as well." Assuming no comment, she moves to the top floor. "Here you have a floor that is primarily bedrooms, for your extended household that may be in Stormwind City. The wards, for instance. This central area I left open, a social area, perhaps."

Avrenne nods, her eyes flicking from room to room as designated.

"And that's it in the broad strokes," Merelda concludes, bringing forward the spreadsheets. "Materials are going to be a challenge, as you know, with all the wartime industry and the natural disasters. We'll need considerable lumber and brick, which is likely to run pricey if we insist on quality - I do recommend we insist on quality, as I assume you would like the townhouse to continue to stand long-term. We can make use of the existing foundation, unless you have a strong personal preference against slab."

"I do insist on quality," Avrenne insists. "As the Vice Admiral has said once on the construction of ships, we are 'looking to float a sound navy, not a cheap one.' I would rather invest in a townhouse that can withstand a natural disaster than rebuild again." She pauses. "I can't say that I have any feelings on slab, personal or otherwise," she says, and the tone of it is just so, a touch of a dry note and movement around her lips, that someone might almost suspect the woman of a playful teasing. But, no, surely not. This is a Very Serious Duchess. She's never made a humorous comment in all her life.

Avrenne leans forward and extends a hand for the spreadsheets, her other hand moving to her gigantic book, to touch down lightly on it. "May I write directly on this, or should I take notes separately for you to use for your own further needs? I may have some suggestions for where to go for what, and what price I am reasonably certain it will have."

"I think it would be simplest if you write here," Merelda nods. "That way I won't need to cross-reference two documents. Please do give me your thoughts - I admit I don't know the suppliers in this region nearly as well as you likely do, so I expect there are some subtleties I'm missing."

Avrenne takes the spreadsheets and moves them over a ledger to function as a clipboard to set in front of her. She opens her cloth bag and removes a relatively advanced gnomish pen that she clicks on. "Are these base costs on the materials, or have you factored in assumed labor or shipment costs throughout?" she says as she looks through the list with quick flicks of her eyes, looking for any notations of material versus assumed labor or cost of shipment of a resource.

"Shipment costs are included there," Merelda says. "Since that was a consideration in source - you can see it there, in separate columns. In a few places I have multiple possible sources - either because I was still considering which to give priority or because I did not think we would be able to get the full shipment from a single source. By labor, do you mean on the townhouse itself? That's on a separate page, you'll need to flip through."

Avrenne does just that, flipping through, as she notes the numbers and the sources. "It's my intention that should someone have begun establishing their business so, to hire on at least one worgen contractor for the work, preferably with some worgen working on the construction directly itself," she says as she reads. "I realize it may be difficult to find such immediately. It's early days and plenty of those who might have had the skills and desire to use them have yet to establish themselves, but if you come into the knowledge at any time of one suitable, please do mention it. Cost is not a factor in that specific case."

Merelda draws a breath, her face calm and composed, and nods. "I will so my best to locate such. I suppose that played a role in your choice to hire me as well, but I assure you there is no compromise involves regarding professional skill."

Avrenne flicks her gaze from the papers to Merelda. "Of course it factors into the decision, just as you will note that the other contractors I can direct you to for best prices that I have worked with before are from Lordaeron, often those who lost their generations of established business after the Fall. You see, Lady Merelda, I am one of those people who are particularly aware that a great deal of skill and ability is lost in a refugee fleeing invasion forced to make decisions thereafter. The person loses their tools, their physical shops, their clients, everything, and it can mean that when they arrive on a new playing field, they find they cannot afford to rebuild. They choose a simpler labor for money, to survive. This is how a skilled mason ends up picking cabbages, or a skilled architect ends up working in a mercenary company for money. Their valuable abilities, skills, perspectives, and practices are lost in the need to prioritize survival.

"I can assure you that if I felt you were not equal to the task, I would not have hired you for a building that will house those who are important and precious to me. My own children will be housed at times in this house, and this is not a decision made lightly or solely for political reasons. So, yes, that you are a worgen and a Gilnean is a consideration, for someone who is willing to spend the money necessary to ensure that valuable skills are not lost in the wake of prioritizing survival. As I told your pack leader, Lord Graves, who spoke well of your skill, it is we who are reaping the benefit as much as providing opportunity. I expect that if we were in Gilneas at the height of your demand, we would be doing much to attempt to win a bid at securing your services, and it is only reduced circumstances that has us winning it now as easily as we have. It's my intention that someday, you will find yourself back there once more, picking and choosing your projects to your preference and your right of skill."

Merelda relaxes fractionally, and returns her attention to the sheets with a nod. "I wasn't looking for that, specifically, in this first analysis, so I'll need to do another pass. As it happens, I do have an interest myself in helping our people find suitable employment in the Alliance - we are not vagrants, after all. Please note where you're aware of a suitable company with worgen employees, and I will conduct my own search as well. The goal, then, will not to loosen our standards, but to preserve expertise where possible. Is there anything else you notice in the balances, that you might want to highlight today?"

Avrenne nods, and flips back to the first page. "Mostly to adjust some of the figures, and where I know of the resources that would be best to use, and it will take me a bit of time to do in full, if you are willing to wait."

Catrin, with the timing of well trained staff, arrives at that moment with a full tea service on a cart. The teapot is a beautiful white ceramic with gladiolus flowers, and a set of blue pansy teacups, the fragrant smell of a mild black tea coming from it, alongside the usual milk, sugar, honey, and lemon slices. There are three full tiers of food presented: on the bottom tier a selection of sandwiches cut into rectangles, two of each of a salmon and cream cheese, and a crab salad. The middle tier holds two of each of a sweet honey scone and a mild Gilnean white flavored savory scone, and a small pot of clotted cream. At the top tier is a collection of little desserts, a lightly vanilla flavored marshmallow dipped in a half a dark chocolate, a small orange marzipan in the shape of a pumpkin, and an exquisitely tiny lemon meringue tart made with a phyllo dough crust.

A perceptive person might note that most of the foods seem to have been chosen with an attentiveness to avoid overpowering scents that might make such a selection aggravating to someone with a sensitive sense of smell.

"Thank you, Catrin," Avrenne says as she sets down her work to pick up the tea to serve Merelda a cup, and fill her own.

Merelda sniffs faintly as the refreshments are set into place, and selects a Gilnean scone with one hand. "I'm in no rush. Haste makes waste, as they always say. I would not want to compromise the value of having you as a client through impatience." Merelda settles back on her couch, taking the fresh cup of tea in her other hand and inhaling the scent of it.

"I will also try to document specifically in places that are relevant, rather than only marking the number as I might usually, so that you understand why that number may apply here, but not in general," Avrenne says, as she sets her tea back down to pick up the spreadsheets. The way she attacks the paper might feel, at least in some sense, like a teacher rapidly marking down where a student has answered incorrectly, except there is no disapproval in her face at all. She strikes through and adjusts numbers, writing a note often after, with a dispassionate air. When she comes to one, she stops to say, "Oh, well negotiated, Lady Merelda," before moving on to another.

She makes one large strike through the shipping through most places, and at one resource pauses and strikes through the whole row. And then another a few more below it. "For the future, you should be aware that House Fallon does not do business with Theramore, or through Theramore port," she says matter of factly, without a clear sense for why those facts.

Merelda raises her eyebrows briefly, but does not question it. Nobles have their grudges and eccentricities. She knows, she's one too. "I will take that under advisement, Lady Fallon. Are there any other companies or ports that should be avoided for the project?"

"We do no business whatsoever with goblin managed or goblin funded businesses," Avrenne says as she strikes through another two numbers, and adjusts them. "Every other port besides Theramore is not only fine, but likely to be something we can improve upon with not only ourselves but through our closely allied House of the Thenedains. Generally speaking, the Fallon Fleet is not for mercantile purposes so much as military, but in some cases these days due to the… volatility of the by sea shipping, there may be some that we would handle ourselves if necessary. Some of the tightness of resources has come from entire ships being lost at sea." There's a touch of something in her voice, a peek of yellow thread of fear weaving through her voice, before it is composed deliberately out of it.

"I generally don't work with goblins, so you'll find none of that in these sheets," Merelda says with a nod. "I have, in the past, for cost reduction, and I have found in goblin companies a tendency to cut corners that can be… highly detrimental if discovered late in a project. My job is much easier if everyone I work with does theirs to at least an adequate level. That is harder to find than you might expect, for which reason there are several economical non-goblin sources you might expect to see noted in those sheets which are not. Where possible, I have attempted to verify the quality of the materials by tracing to existing buildings in Stormwind or nearby. For labor, the quality of the workers is if anything more important, and I have attempted to verify the appropriate companies via word-of-mouth and, again, quietly inspecting the exterior of listed previous projects."

"Very good, Lady Merelda," Avrenne says with approval, including a small smile to punctuate it. "I appreciate your expertise and attention to detail, as well as your commitment to start as you mean to go on as a principle of yours." She finishes one last small adjustment, and then sets the spreadsheet down as she takes a sip of tea with one hand and moves her giant book over with the other. She sets down her tea, and opens a ledger to a blank page. "The ones I have marked here, you will note, are those I am sure of for those prices or that particular location, are mainly because they will be dealing with me and I have pre-arrangements with some of them, not a few of those years in the making. Generally speaking, I'm impressed with your bargaining and your research. You know your business very well, and it shows."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Merelda says, permitting herself a small, satisfied smile. "To make certain I understand correctly - for the marked vendors, I'll contact you with the specifics of what we need, and you will handle the contracts and arrangements?"

"Yes, although, as you will note here," Avrenne says as she taps lightly on a few places, "Simply mention that it's for me, and they will consider it as a favor returned. These others I will contact directly for the contracting." As she speaks, she flips through her enormous book, noting specific numbers down, and then starting several calculus graphs against other numbers, charting out an over time market fluctuation. Whatever she gets as the outcome causes her to frown, her mouth pinching together with frustration.

"I think with these ones," she says as she marks several numbers, in a slightly distracted sounding tone as if she is half speaking out loud to herself, "We will have to assume cost until we are there, and that it may be worth the risk to put them off in purchase until we have passed into the next Q1 of this coming year, oh, maybe even Q2 if we can stretch it that far, because if so, the price will have dropped significantly, assuming there isn't some specific disaster. Unfortunately, with the unrest of everything, that is a riskier assumption than it would have been two years ago." There is another pause as Avrenne reviews the numbers, and then her chin comes up.

"Ultimately, House Fallon can stand to absorb the cost if it turns out higher, and we will put less of a strain on the Kingdom's coffers in their own bids for resources for the military if we avoid purchasing now to drive up demand and cost. So, we will wait," she decides, as she sets down her pen for another sip of tea.

Merelda frowns herself, and draws out a pile of sheets that seem to be written in some kind of shorthand, though numbers are visible. "If we postpone those materials until Q2, then that will impact… no, I think this could continue without, but this…" she trails off and draws her own pen out, making a few marks of what must be correction of some elaborate plan. She nods, setting down the pen, and raises one hand to accidentally leave a faint ink smudge on her chin. "I know you wanted this place sooner rather than later, and there is an order to things, some stages of construction that can't happen until particular other things are in place. Do you have an absolute deadline that I must adhere to?"

"No, nothing absolute, only the guideline. I wouldn't want to delay anything that would expose the interior to the elements, as I've been given to understand this is to be avoided in construction in general, so if there are those that I have accounted for incorrectly for a delayed purchase, please feel free to correct it. My expertise is chiefly in constructing weapons of war and the occasional fortification, and my knowledge of materials is through this perspective. I yield in all cases where it could negatively impact the building to focus primarily on obtaining those resources," Avrenne says. "Sound structure is greater than most other considerations."

"Then this one," Merelda reaches over to tap one line. "We really should get early in Q1 at latest, since we'll be starting construction in winter. The others can wait, if we need to do so to ensure non-competition."

Avrenne nods. "Then that shall be as described. I should like to say that I could move other resources sooner for other projects, but I truly cannot, as they are bound now by the slow movement of the wheels of the bureaucracy, and they are already moving as fast as they can." She pauses again for more tea, and her eyes flick from her math to the food with another calculation. The scones are cooling and the sandwich bread drying out a little more with every moment, and she is bound by her agreement to see to her greater caloric intake. But also. Math.

In the end the math wins out. She can eat cold scones and dried bread. She sorts through the large book again, as she once again begins charting out new numbers, and flips to the end for labor options, writing in new names of people in two places, and marking the hypothetical worgen involved business. These are fewer adjustments, but they seem very precise where they are. The rest she leaves to Merelda's expertise of working with and negotiating for construction work.

At last, she goes through the numbers again more slowly, starting at the top, and going down by each one, especially those unmarked already, checked against the giant book's information. The flicks of her pen are the only sound she makes for a bit of time.

Merelda, having seen to the original math in preparation for this meeting, shifts to finish eating her scone and then securing one of the sandwiches. There's no sign of impatience in her manner as she quietly dines on tea and sandwich while Avrenne's pen scritches on the paper. She could sit here forever, maybe.

It's a companionable silence. Avrenne hesitates only twice, a frown that looks much like someone on the edge of memory, and she makes a small note on a resource, a simple dot next to it, before she moves on. When she finishes up her side of adjustments, she returns to the dot, and stares at it like she expects it to come into focus. At last she taps it with a finger lightly. "Lady Merelda, may I ask, this quarry here, if I recall correctly it was intended to be sold in a quiet bidding war, but I don't recognize this particular name of ownership at all. Do you recall, when you spoke with them, if they are owned by any larger, broader company?"

"That one?" Merelda leans over to look, one curl falling over to obscure the paper. She brushes it back in irritation. "Yes, the name here is not well-known, but they're owned by the… MacBride Company, if I'm recalling correctly."

Avrenne's expression freezes, her body going still to avoid showing something, but giving some sense of a reaction all the same in the lack of reaction. When she does start to move again, her fingers go to her throat, a light touch as if she can feel something there, or the way a person with a cough might try to massage the tickle away. "I see," she says after a long enough delay to note it. "Very well. There is no need to change it. There isn't a suitable alternative. The quarry is sound, the family that once held it was simply unlucky after the damage they sustained in other places and their own home in the cataclysm." Avrenne stares hard at the line like she can intimidate it into speaking, and then sets her pen and ledger back down, to pick up her now cold tea.

It isn't cold for long, as steam rises up from it as she holds onto the cup, and then drinks the remainder.

"Did you speak to any of the MacBrides yourself in person?" Avrenne asks as she begins to set up her plate with food with the precision of someone taking up a task to move.

Merelda watches her reaction, a faint glint in her eyes. "Ah, yes there was one, a woman named Wilda Reyes. She was…" Merelda pauses, frowns, and shakes her head as if trying to clear away some cobwebs. With a wariness in her voice, she adds, "I don't recall her very clearly. Is there trouble with the family?"

"Not exactly, simply old history. I was once engaged to a man named Mr. Joran Green who married one of the MacBrides, a Mrs. Brigitte Green. It was not done entirely well, the whole thing, although I must admit that I benefited greatly in the end. The MacBrides have an oddly spread out network of businesses, and thus far we have not intersected, but with the state of resources being as they are at this time, avoiding this particular one would be unreasonable except to hold the family and associates in a grudge. It's not in my nature to make an enemy of someone when it's unnecessary. It may stand, as the price is reasonable and I know the material to be of quality. I prefer to have connections with those I deal with, and so I will send my ward Finley to meet with him, but you must understand that it is only for my own sense of a network, not a criticism of your own judgment. I trust that you were thorough."

"Ah," Merelda says, taking the meaning of 'it was not done entirely well'. "If you have the ties there, such as they are, I will certainly leave them in your capable hands. Though if there is some concern of the family's ability to honor a contract…"

"Not of honoring one," Avrenne says, and her tone drops from a cool politeness to a freezing cold, "but I would be cautious in being certain to leave nothing to a loophole to exploit." Then this emotion is dismissed, composure ruling once more, as she breaks open a savory scone to spread clotted cream over it. "I am satisfied with the rest as is. I would appreciate all copies of the floor plans and blueprints, as well as a revised copy of the materials at your earlier convenience for our own records, naturally."

Avrenne looks up from her scone to assess Merelda. "If I may ask, have you heard from your cousin Lord Tyrrell recently about his …conditional return to his work within the 7th Legion? I realize in his case, it always behooves me to ask, and not assume he has told anyone anything ever."

"I… knew there was some question as to what would happen with his career, but I hadn't realized it had been resolved," Merelda says, taking one of the top level sweets. "I saw him last only yesterday, as it happens, but I don't believe he raised the subject."

Avrenne doesn't sigh with exasperation or roll her eyes because these would imply that she is surprised in any way, and she is not. "No, of course not, and had you raised the subject yourself, I expect he would have still managed to not tell you anything directly until you pinned him to the floor with just the right question," Avrenne says, and though her tone is dry, there's an unmistakable soft thread of fondness through her voice. "Lord Tyrrell has been reinstated into the 6th E.U., but at the cost of his rank. He was demoted to Sergeant, and his former second promoted to Captain. The readjustment has necessitated additional time to move all the other aspects around yet again, so they remain here in Stormwind for the time being." The words are carefully controlled, but an observant person might note the slight tension in her voice at the description of Zath's demotion. "How did he seem to you, yesterday?"

Merelda considers. "In reasonably good humor, considering. I think being around Thaniel is good for him. Perhaps he's adjusted to the idea of his new situation by now," wait, does she mean…? "A rank lost can be regained, after all."

"I admit I would only start to consider worrying if he did seem in exceptionally good humor or exceptionally bad, either would betoken some sort of great personal calamity or some wonderful news, and not necessarily in the way one might be given to expect of which to what," Avrenne says. "If he seemed generally of his usual bearing, we shall take it as a sign that at least he intends to continue on with the future of his circumstances being what they are." The best you can really do with someone like Zath, sometimes. "How is Mr. Clay doing these days? Isla did so enjoy his visit. Is he still then on this continent, settled somewhere?"

"He's found a position gardening in Teldrassil," Merelda says, settling back on her couch a little. She smiles, with a touch of amusement. "He seems convinced Zath Tyrrell is a very nice man. I can't say I disagree, altogether, but you should have seen Zath's face at the pronouncement."

"Oh, he's always simultaneously secretly pleased and greatly dismayed to have someone not be swept up into the image of the fearsome and foreboding warlock of his reputation. That's not to say that he cannot be both of those, only that in being perceived as other, especially by one of those gentle types such as Mr. Clay is, sets him rather on the back foot," Avrenne remarks before she finishes off the rest of her scone. Only after she has had some tea does she ask, "Have you met any other worgen outside of your own pack besides Lord Tyrrell?"

"Most I've met have been packless, and some of those subsequently Gravehowl," Merelda shrugs. "No my cousin, of course, as I suppose he will insist on remaining a lone wolf for the aesthetics if nothing else. But, well, as for the Gilneans… the process of reclaiming our minds seems to have left a lot of pack orphans. The fraction of those who were recoverable after years as a feral were small - it is luck or something else at work that all of the Gravehowls returned to themselves."

"One must never discount what Lord Tyrrell will do for aesthetics," Arenne says in a dry voice. "In his case though, I suspect it's a matter of already having a 'pack,' in another form." She breaks open the sweet scone. "Who have you met that still remains packless, or of another pack that is significantly smaller than your own, if I may ask?"

"A mage named Addelaine Kirby, for one," Merelda says. "She was hopeful of joining Gravehowl, but I haven't heard yet from Lord Graves if she's been accepted."

Avrenne's brows raise. "Is she one of those who are packless entirely, coming from another pack that has been… of mixed return to sentience and lacking in leadership, or simply a preference for different leadership than her current pack?"

"The former, I believe," Merelda says, considering. "Though I admit Lord Graves and S.I. Thorne will likely see to the matter, and may know more. Pack membership is not something that I necessarily would have input into, after all."

"The matter of membership is not my concern. I have an interest in identifying other packs beyond Gravehowl, and worgen who may have found themselves by either choice or circumstance on the outside of things," Avrenne says, in that cool, composed way of hers. "In part for the same issue as before, of those who are struggling to find a place, whose voices may go unheard or whose skills may be lost as they lose opportunities that require difficult choices. I will ask Lord Graves about her the next time I see him, which should not be over long from now. He and the Vice Admiral, my husband, are friends, and Lord Graves will visit from time to time." Yes. Friends. Some might even call them awfully good friends.

"Ah, yes, then undoubtedly he will have a better answer for you on that matter than I have," Merelda says, unconcerned at the level of friendship her pack leader may have with the Fallons. "I may not be the best source, as most of those I have encountered have been absorbed into Gravehowl, like Kenelly or likely Addelaine, or have no desire for a pack at all, like my cousin. There's the Bloodfang, of course, but they are quite a large and organized pack, and not the outsiders you're concerned about."

"Even the Bloodfangs are a consideration, especially for a large and organized pack," Avrenne says. "I am not concerned only of outsiders; every pack that has a leader in particular is important to know of and be able to speak with, for what decisions they are hoping to make. Worgen in general fall under the broader umbrella of a smaller group that require some attention for their place in the Alliance, for the unique challenges associated with the condition beyond being a refugee, and while many worgen are Gilnean, not all are, and thus some will fall into odder categories than simply refugee. Those that have packs have a benefit, as assistance addressed at the top will often mean considerable strides can be made. A pack leader who knows what their pack members need can be an efficient way of seeing to several points of necessary information at once." She finishes off her second scone, starting in on her desserts with no more relish than she showed the savories. This is a duty to caloric intake, and her attention is not on her food.

"And one cannot know who a person has or has not met until one speaks with her, but I am grateful for your sharing of information regardless, Lady Merelda," the Duchess continues. "Lord Graves said that you were his choice of architect for renovations of his home, and you mentioned that your lands were near his, if I recall correctly." This fact that Merelda mentioned once, when they first met, months ago. One might suspect the Lady Fallon of recalling a lot of things correctly to an alarming degree of specifics. "Would you say you know him well?"

"I suppose as well as a neighbor might, originally," Merelda says, watching the duchess eat with no judgment. She likely wouldn't judge in any case, but also the woman's very pregnant. "There were considerations of certain mergers, but those plans were set aside for various reasons. And then, well, he kept us together, after everything fell apart. Whether we wanted him to or not. Is there something you wanted to ask me about his history or character?" Merelda gestures vaguely. "As for Bloodfang, their leader is Ivar, and they're mostly still active in Silverpine, harrying the Forsaken."

"Oh, how interesting," Avrenne says and although it's spoken with that calm, cool tone, there's a gleam of approval in those dark eyes. How interesting indeed of a pack dedicated to harrying the Forsaken. "For Lord Graves, as a merger, if you will excuse the frankness, you mean of marriage between your houses?"

"I thought, perhaps, you had heard something regarding that, based on your line of questioning," Merelda says mildly. "But yes, to be frank, though the idea was set aside with no hostility on either side. We were, and remain, cordial."

It's difficult to read Lady Fallon's expression, as it looks to be only that polite, neutral curiosity. "I have had little knowledge of the goings on of Gilnean society in those years of the wall up, naturally, and have been working on learning more about it where I might. I admit to some curiosity how Lord Graves has remained unmarried. I understand the last few years, of course," with the Worgen Circumstances, "but before that, I would have expected him to have had at least an engagement that might have been disrupted."

"Lord Graves is… a very serious man," Merelda says carefully. "I do not expect he would have chosen to have an engagement except that it might prove beneficial in a material way to both houses, with that benefit being the main substance of the marriage itself. And that is a level of… seriousness… that some would find off putting. I, naturally, have considerable respect for Lord Graves." But. It rests in the air, though she doesn't continue the sentence.

Avrenne, instead of asking, says nothing, raising her brows into the silence now asking to be filled.

Merelda remains silent for a moment longer, but really she's just not the quiet and reserved sort. Her mother can sigh in exasperation later. "For myself, were I to ever marry, there are some non-negotiable requirements that Lord Graves could not meet, such as gender."

Avrenne does not take too long for the click of understanding. "Oh, I see," she says, as she moves to refresh Merelda's tea. "My brother was of the sort who would have only found real satisfaction of marriage with another man. This was not taken under consideration when he was married, for political reasons, to a woman, and expected to produce heirs. They never did, and I think it was a rather unhappy match in all regards. I think it was a wise decision for the both of you to have chosen the other course." There is a glimmer of that warmth to her voice, a genuine sentiment behind the cool tone.

Merelda smiles a little sadly, with a touch of sympathy for that long ago brother in her eyes. "Yes, I think it was best for all concerned. As it is, I'm not altogether certain if the current circumstances," the worgen circumstances, "leave the production of heirs as a possibility. And if heirs are to be acquired through adoption, there's no need for a marriage at all, in that regard. Unless it is for some other shared benefit or a bridging of houses."

"For that we may want to look into conversations with the worgen of Northrend, though I have been given to understand that they are not exactly the same as the worgen of Gilnean origin, and that it may impact how much knowledge we can glean from them, but they have most certainly been there long enough of several years to have evidence of a new start of generational worgen, and what that has meant for them at least. Unfortunately, I have not found any to speak with yet. They were not at the summit in Darnassus, but perhaps as things alter for worgen here, visibly, some who are ready to rejoin society properly will find their way south," Avrenne says, as she takes her ladylike and dainty bites of her desserts.

"I expect you already know my general opinion on adoption as an admirable and worthy course, having met my own wards. We have recently adopted Ralaea as well, as she was of those orphaned in the Fall of Lordaeron, and her parentage was both Lordaeron and Kul Tiran, and she feels at home here."

"Well, congratulations to you both," Merelda says, her smile brightening. "I have no wards in my house at present, since my one has reached majority. But of course should she decide her future is with my family, I would be here for her."

"It makes three of my wards who have reached majority, but it is my firm opinion that one does not stop wanting or needing family simply because one achieves 18 years of age. Family is not simply for children, and while some might find it unnecessary to have it defined by legal contracts," she says, in the tone that someone might say that some people might not use silverware, if that is their strange and unusual custom, "I think we all find ways of gathering family to ourselves, one way or another."

"That's as may be," Merelda nods. "As for mine, I do think of her as a packmate and family, but she… likes freedom, I think, and is not over fond of contracts." Or silverware, probably, let's be honest. "But one can never know what the future may hold."

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Flower Meanings

• Anthurium: Hospitality.
• Gladiolus: Generosity.
• Blue Pansy: Honesty. Loyalty.